Page 47 of My Forbidden Billionaire
Without hesitation, I lean in and gently wipe the ash away with my thumb. Our faces are now so close, I can feel her breath on my lips.
“Jacob,” she whispers, and before I can react, she presses her lips to mine.
It’s like an explosion goes off inside of me. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her in closer as our lips move together in perfect rhythm, each kiss more intense than the last.
We’re lost in the moment, in this historic house, surrounded by the ghosts of literary giants. I can’t help but feel like this is a moment that we’ll both remember for the rest of our lives.
I kiss her deeply, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, as my hands trace the curves of her hips. She moans softly against my lips, her body pressed tight against mine. It’s like nothing else exists in the world, just her and me, lost in desire and passion.
Eventually, we pull away, and catch our breath. She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling with desire. I can’t help the smirk that spreads across my face. “You know, I never would have guessed that I would end up kissing you in Louisa May Alcott’s house,” I say, my voice laced with humor.
Josephine laughs, her head thrown back in joy. “Life is full of surprises, Jacob. And this … this is definitely the best one yet.”
“Well, the night’s still young.” I smirk. “Are you ready to see what’s next?”
Josephine looks at me with a twinkle in her eyes. “I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises, Jacob. You’ve already taken my breath away with this one.”
“Well, I hope you can handle it, because I’ve got a private dinner planned for us in the garden. Just you and me.”
Her mouth drops open. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
I take her hand and lead her out the back door into the garden. We follow a candle-lit path to a small table surrounded by flowers, with a view of the moonlit sky. I pull out a chair for her and she sits down, still in awe of everything that’s happened tonight.
“Jacob, this is just … amazing,” she says, looking around at the beautiful scenery.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say, sitting down across from her.
The wait staff start to bring dish after dish and plate after plate toward us. All of it is lined on a serving table next to ours.
“Blancmange!” Josephine calls out, pointing toward the dish. “This is the treat that Meg made for Laurie in the book when he was sick!”
“Very good, Josephine! Ten points!” I laugh. “Tell me, what else?”
“Mmm … gingerbread! Oh, they always have gingerbread in the book. All kinds. And they’re all here. Look at that! Gosh, it smells … delicious!” she says, leaning in and taking a whiff of the aroma wafting above the plate. It’s an array of sugar, molasses, spices, rum, and, of course, ginger.
“Fantastic! Another ten points!” I clap. “What else do you recognize?”
“Well, the turkey, of course. Bread, all the vegetables, the chicken. What is on that plate?” she asks, craning her neck.
“That would be seed cake. To be honest, I have no idea what it is.” I chuckle. “The private chef presented me with the menu a few days ago, but I simply don’t know. And over there are the candies. They’re supposed to be…”
“Chocolate drops and bonbons?” She completes my sentence.
“Of course. You’re really good at this, Josephine.”
“What can I say? This is one of my favorite books, after all…”
The wait staff continues to bring more dishes and Josephine recognizes the seafood from the book. Fish balls, oysters, as well as lobster salad, and the famous currant jelly that simply refused to jell for the characters in the book.
As we eat, Josephine’s eyes are bright with excitement as she talks about her favorite scenes from the story.
“It’s just so inspiring to see these women, these sisters, making their way in the world. They each have their own struggles and challenges, but they overcome them together. It’s such a beautiful story of family and sisterhood,” she says, taking a bite of the gingerbread.
“I agree,” I say with a smile. “So, tell me more about your family, I’d love to know more about what made you the woman you are today.”
Josephine puts down her fork, brushing a stray crumb off the corner of her lips. “Well, I grew up in a pretty traditional household. My father worked and my mother was a homemaker. But my grandmother lived with us before she passed away, and she was a big influence in my life. She was a writer herself, and she taught me to love and appreciate literature from a young age by reading to me every night before bed.” Her eyes light up as she speaks about her grandmother with admiration
I nod, listening intently to her words. “She sounds wonderful.”